


Like Kandinsky.

by squid (triesquid)



Series: he has no art [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Major Sheppard, Musician Rodney McKay, Older Sister Jeannie, Pre-Slash, Rodney POV, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like Kandinsky, Rodney <em>saw</em> music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Kandinsky.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: -ish, for "Redemption" and the infamous "Rodney has no art" bit. Such an unfair statement for anyone, especially an adult who's supposed to be nurturing youth, to make.
> 
> This was originally written before we had any idea about Jeannie other than her existence, so this is not canon-compliant in that way.
> 
> This is actually a companion-drabble to another fic I'd penned called [_Persuasion_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/606715) that has yet to be completed--as is evidenced by them being in the same series. Yet, this piece can function as an independent story, so don't worry about the lack of the other. 
> 
> Also, Kandinsky was an artist of the Bauhaus who was a musician, a painter, a lawyer, and a mystic. He's way too shiny. 
> 
> Always thanks to my beta-bug, whee71. Such a sweet, sweet lad.

Like Kandinsky, he  _saw_  music. It existed in complete harmony with physics—a gentle balance in his mind suspended by violin strings and quarks, nearly invisible and holding the universe together.  
  
That was probably why it had hurt so much—being told he had no art.  
  
As if the capacity for art was something that could be measured by one little eighty-year-old woman when he was  _twelve_.  
  
But it had  _hurt_.  
  
So he had ceased to play.  
  
But he didn't  _stop_  seeing the music.  
  
And now, for the first time in twenty-five years, he was going to embrace the music, let it tell him where to go—what to  _be—_ instead of the equally controlled chaos of physics.  
  
He was going to allow art, allow himself to want, to  _yearn_. He was going to be that  _other_  Rodney who had lived happily with his elder sister never caring that money was scarce.  As long as the beat-up piano's strings didn't snap.  
  
He was going to become transcendent.  
  
And John was there to see, to witness, to pay homage to the Rodney that he  _ought_  to have been.  
  
Because, like Kandinsky, Rodney saw music. Yet, unlike Kandinsky, he also saw the underpinnings of the universe.  
  
And they were equally important.


End file.
